


Persistence of Vision

by planet_plantagenet



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Canonical Character Death, M/M, POV Minor Character, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is essentially the entirety of Hamlet... from Osric's point of view.</p>
<p>Because I'm a sucker for small-but-complicated characters/roles, and I honestly can't get enough of Osric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persistence of Vision

Laertes is leaving for France again. I hear the other courtiers talking about this one night, and the finality of the statement leaves a lump in my throat. If I could, I’d ask them for details: when is he leaving? When is he coming back? What will he do in France? But they already tease me enough about my obsession with Laertes. I don’t want to give them more fuel for the fire.

And yet… the news fills me with a sense of missed opportunity. The times Laertes is here… they seem so fleeting. I keep telling myself that next time, I’ll work up the courage to talk to him. Maybe he’ll even talk to me. But as soon as I’m almost ready, he leaves again.

Not that he’d ever talk to me anyway. I’m just a courtier.

*

I see Laertes in the halls a couple times. He changes his hair color every few months, and right now it’s dyed turquoise. I can’t wait to see what color it’ll be when he returns.

The last time I see him, he’s lugging his suitcase down the stairs to his room. On an impulse, I offer to carry it for him.

“Sure, thank you,” he replies. He smiles at me, and my heart melts. I try not to grin too hard as I carry the heavy suitcase.

“When will you be back?” I ask when we’ve gotten to the ground floor of the castle. I try to frame the question as casually as I can. As if I’m asking out of pure curiosity.

“A couple months, hopefully,” Laertes says. He takes the suitcase, and for a second, we’re standing face-to-face.

“Oh.” I can’t disguise the disappointment on my face.

“Hey.” He smiles slightly, claps me on the shoulder. “That’s not too long, is it?”

Maybe it’s the sudden rush I get from the contact, or just the general feeling of giddiness I get from talking to Laertes, but I suddenly whisper, “I’ll miss you.”

Laertes looks surprised. I feel my cheeks redden. But then he grins and says, “Really? I’m flattered. …What’s your name?”

“Osric,” I squeak.

“Osric,” he repeats. “Well, Osric, I’ll see you in a month or two.” He touches me lightly on the arm, then disappears out the doorway.

I stand frozen at the bottom of the stairs. Laertes knows who I am now. Maybe he’ll remember me when he gets back.

Maybe it’s not a promise of eternal love, but his words and touches are better than I ever dared to dream.

*

If there were one person I wish were going back to school, it would be Prince Hamlet. I hear from the courtiers that he’s going to be staying for a little while longer, and the news doesn’t exactly excite me. It’s not that I dislike Hamlet. He’s okay. It’s just that he doesn’t particularly like me.

Without a doubt, I’m the clumsiest of the courtiers. Everyone else seems to have the drill down—do what you’re told, don’t talk too much, stay in the background. Me? I once tripped over my shoelaces and fell down the stairs head-first. I also once accidentally spilled a jug of punch all over Hamlet’s legs. And then there was that time when I had a sneezing fit during King Hamlet’s funeral.

Anyway, I suppose Hamlet has good reason to dislike me. It’s just… he seems to take every chance he has to humiliate me, especially in front of his friends or the other courtiers. He loves to comment on my slight breaches of the social norm: You’re talking too fast, Osric, or Stop fidgeting with your sweater, Osric, or Take off your hat, Osric. I’m dreading the day where I slip up in front of Laertes, and Hamlet calls me on it. Fortunately, that hasn’t happened yet.

*

The closest I have to a friend at the castle (other than the courtiers, but I wouldn’t really call them my friends) is Laertes’ sister, Ophelia. Granted, we haven’t actually talked that much. But she always smiles at me when I see her around, and she’s very friendly.

A couple weeks ago, Ophelia approached me in the hall, smiling slightly. In response to my quizzical expression, she said, “Osric, isn’t it?”

I nodded slowly.

She lowered her voice, still grinning. “So, I’ve seen the way you look at my brother….”

My cheeks went bright red. Was it really that obvious?? Ophelia must’ve seen the look of horror on my face, because she laughed. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Just know that I’m always available to talk….”

“About what?” I whispered.

She shrugged. “Laertes. Boys. How to ask people out. That kind of thing.”

“Thank you…!” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“No problem.”

*

I overhear Laertes’ father, Polonius, talking to one of his attendants. I don’t like Polonius very much. I don’t like how he treats Ophelia. He seems to be nice to Laertes, but that illusion is quickly shattered by what I hear in my eavesdropping.

Polonius seems to be asking his attendant to spy on Laertes. Make sure he’s not doing anything illegal. The attendant nods along.

But then Polonius is telling him to essentially spread rumors about Laertes, and I see the attendant’s eyes widening. My heart is beating faster as well. This isn’t okay. Polonius is droning on, but I don’t think the attendant is listening. I certainly am not.

When Polonius leaves, I run up to the attendant.

“Are you going to do it?” It’s clear what I’m talking about.

He shakes his head slowly. “I’m all for ensuring Laertes’ safety… but I’m not going to spread rumors about him. That’s just plain unethical.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

*

Hamlet has been acting really strangely lately. He’s a lot more extroverted than usual, saying the most random things and jumping around the castle like he’s acting in some kind of drunk comedy. No one is quite sure why he’s acting like this. King Claudius says he’s mad.

Some of the courtiers were speculating on Hamlet’s behavior. One thinks he’s faking it, but the other courtiers quickly shut down the theory. Why would Hamlet be pretending to be crazy? He’s obviously just devastated by the loss of his father.

I’m not sure what I believe. I just hope Hamlet gets some sort of help.

*

I’ve been looking for a chance to talk to Ophelia, but I’m not getting any. After all, she’s been pretty preoccupied. I don’t think Hamlet’s being very nice to her. I hear some shouting from a room one day, and decide not to peek in.

Meanwhile, King Claudius has invited two of Hamlet’s friends to Elsinore. They’re called Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Queen Gertrude asks me to have lunch with them—to keep them entertained until Hamlet is available, she says.

I’m excited to have this kind of responsibility. Gertrude is generally a nice person, and I’m glad she entrusts me to entertain guests.

As it turns out, however, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern—or Rose and Gill, as I internally think of them—are as awkward as I am when it comes to talking with strangers. After about five minutes of eating in extremely self-conscious silence, I say the first thing that comes to my mind—which happens to be, “So, are you two a couple?”

The two of them start, then look at each other awkwardly. I can feel myself blushing. Then the silence is broken when Gill says quietly, “Uh… actually, yes we are.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Rose quickly adds.

“Of course not,” I reply. Then after a pause, I continue, “I’m just… happy to find other people like me.”

“Boys who like other boys?”

“Yeah.”

Rose smirks. “So, who do you like?”

I launch into a description of Laertes—how I’ve admired him from afar for a while, how that admiration sort of turned into an obsession, and how he’s left for France again… all that. Rose and Gill look genuinely entertained by my story.

“Hang on a second,” Gill interjects suddenly. “Laertes… isn’t that Hamlet’s ex?”

I start. “What??”

“Yeah,” Gill continues. “Didn’t they date for like two weeks last year? And then Hamlet just dumped him?”

“Yeah, ‘cause Hamlet’s totally into Horatio,” Rose says, snickering.

This is news to me. I’m not sure whether I love it or hate it. But then a thought comes to me. “Hang on a second… does that mean that Laertes is gay too??”

Rose shrugs. “He could be! I dunno, man, you’ve just gotta tell him about your feelings.”

I’m about to say that I have no idea how to do that, when the doors open and Gertrude walks in. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Gill and I say at the same time.

She beams. “Glad to hear it! Rosencrantz, Guildenstern—Claudius would love to talk to you for a minute.”

The two of them stand up. “See you later,” whispers Gill.

“Yeah, we can talk more about your boyfriend troubles another time,” Rose adds, grinning.

I’m sad to see them go. It seems like I’ve made some real friends.

*

A troupe of actors arrives. I’ve always loved theater, so I’m excited to see them come to perform. I ask one of them what play they’re going to put on.

“Hamlet requested The Murder of Gonzago,” the first player tells me, “so that’s probably what it’s going to be! Do you have any suggestions?”

I can’t think of any interesting plays at the moment, so I shake my head.

*

When they actually perform the play a couple days later, it’s a little different than I remember. I didn’t know that poison is effective when poured into the victim’s ear. Apparently it is.

Hamlet spends a lot of the time prancing around, laying in Ophelia’s lap, and making obnoxious commentary. Ophelia looks so done with him. I feel sorry for her.

Meanwhile, Claudius looks increasingly on-edge. At some point near the middle of the first scene, he storms out of the room. A shocked silence follows.

I’m not exactly sure what agitated Claudius so much about the play. It was a little slow, but otherwise seemed very well-performed to me. Maybe he was just having a bad day.

*

I see Rose and Gill later. They look pretty disgruntled. I ask if they have time to talk. Rose says he wishes they did, but they have other duties they need to attend to.

*

Polonius is dead. The news spreads like wildfire, especially among the ever-gossiping courtiers. I think of the Douglas Adams quote: “Nothing travels faster than the speed of light, with the possible exception of bad news, which obeys its own special laws.”

I’m not sure what I think of Polonius’ death. I didn’t like him, that’s for sure. But I certainly never wished him dead. I wonder why Hamlet killed him. He seems to be getting crazier each day. I wish Claudius would help him in some way.

Then I remember that Polonius is the father of Laertes and Ophelia. I immediately feel worse. They don’t deserve to deal with something like this. I wish Laertes were here so I could help comfort him.

*

Hamlet is off to England with Rose and Gill. It seems I won’t be able to talk with them anymore, which saddens me. But at least Hamlet will be gone. I hear that England has better mental health services than Denmark. Maybe it’ll help him.

*

Laertes is coming back. I feel a sudden joy when I hear the news, but then remember that his father has died and that he’ll be sad and angry. I wish he were returning under happier circumstances.

He probably won’t want to talk to me anymore. He’ll have much bigger issues on his hands. I understand why, but I’m still sad.

*

Ophelia has gone mad, the courtiers say. She’s singing and dancing and crying and acting completely nuts, they say. She needs help, they say.

I wish I could talk to her. But they’d never let me.

I hope she’s okay.

*

Laertes arrives. His hair is bright red now, a color that compliments his obvious anger. I feel a rush of adrenaline when I see him storming up the path to the castle. He looks so majestic, his long hair and coat flying out behind him in the breeze.

A crowd soon forms around him. Someone starts yelling, “Laertes shall be king!”

I’m not sure why. I don’t think about it. I’m too caught up in the moment. The crowd starts chanting, and I chant with them.

*

Ophelia is dead.

The news crashes down on me. Sudden. Unexpected. Inexplicable.

She drowned herself, the courtiers say. Suicide. She was crazy from grief.

I can’t believe it. I can’t accept the fact that she’s dead, that she would be desperate enough to take her own life. I barely knew her… but yet, she seemed to know me so well.

I want to go to her funeral, but I know they won’t let me.

I haven’t seen Laertes since he first set foot in the castle. I hope he’s okay. I know he isn’t. He’s lost two family members in a very short amount of time.

I want to go talk to him. I want to hug him and tell him everything will be okay.

But I know that’ll never happen.

The world is crashing down around me, and I can only watch.

*

I hear a lot about Ophelia’s funeral. None of it is good. I hear that Hamlet turned up, having somehow returned from England. I hear that he insulted Laertes, and the two of them got into a fight. I hear that the entire thing was a disaster.

I’m glad I wasn’t there.

I can’t imagine what Laertes must be feeling right now. I hear he’s challenged Hamlet to a duel. That seems fair. Hamlet has really been an asshole to Laertes lately.

*

Someone tells me that Rose and Gill are dead. It’s just a small mention, a throwaway line, but it fills me with dread. Everyone seems to be dying. It isn’t okay. It isn’t fair.

I wonder how Rose and Gill died. I have a sinking feeling that Hamlet had something to do with it.

*

I’m sorting files in one of the castle’s office chambers when suddenly King Claudius enters. I jump to my feet and clumsily bow as Claudius comes up to me. He motions me to sit down, and I do, heart fluttering in my chest. I’ve never been alone with the King before. I wonder what he wants.

“A-are you looking for a specific file, Your Majesty?” I manage to stutter out.

He looks straight at me. “No… as a matter of fact, I was looking for you.”

I blush. “What? Why?”

Claudius pulls up a chair, sits across from me, hands folded on the desk. He looks so calm, the antithesis of how I’m feeling inside.

“You know, of course, that Laertes and Hamlet will be having a duel, a couple days from now?”

I nod. I can feel my hands shaking under the desk. What is he getting at??

He leans closer, blue eyes boring into mine. “I happen to know—from certain, shall we say, reliable sources—of your affections towards Laertes.”

I freeze. I can’t think. King Claudius knows my secret. But how?? With a start, I realize that Rose and Gill must have told him. He probably coaxed it out of them somehow. But there’s no need to dwell on that.

Claudius must have noticed my petrified expression, because he smiles. It’s not a happy smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, least of all Laertes himself.”

“Do you want me to do something?” I whisper.

“Yes, in fact, I do. As it so happens, Laertes and I have devised a kind of plot. We need to make sure Laertes wins this swordfight. You understand?”

I nod, throat dry.

“When the duel starts, Laertes and Hamlet will select their foils. Our plan is to leave Laertes’ foil sharpened, and anoint it with poison.”

“Poison?” I repeat.

“It won’t kill him, of course,” Claudius says quickly, responding to the terror in my voice. “It will just… make it easier for Laertes to win. And that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

His eyes are fixed on mine again. I swallow. “Of course.”

“You will be the judge of the match. All you need to do is give Laertes the sharpened foil. It’s not difficult.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

He’s leaning away now, smiling that faux smile. “And, of course, you won’t tell anyone about our plot. If you do….” His smile is gone now. “Well, let’s just say your affections won’t stay secret for long.”

Claudius is threatening me, using my feelings against me. But for what end? Justice for Laertes? I want that as much as he does. It won’t do me any good to disobey. So I nod once more, unable to speak.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Claudius says. He stands, and without another word, exits the room.

*

Between the talk with Claudius and the duel, I see Laertes many more times. His hair is a dark blue color. It suits him. He seems to notice me a lot more as well. Evidently the King has told him that I’m on their side.

Mostly I watch him practice his fencing skills. He’s lightning-fast with the foil, a spectacle to behold. Sometimes he notices me watching, and grins or waves. I wave back, albeit sheepishly.

“Looks like I’m back from France a little earlier than expected,” he tells me one day in the hall. “Are you glad?”

He remembers me. I can’t believe it.

“Very,” I reply breathlessly, and he chuckles. The laugh seems genuine and friendly.

*

It’s the day of the duel. I should feel excited, but the butterflies in my stomach are not from exhilaration. I’m terrified.

Hamlet has been cooped up in his room for most of the day. Claudius tells me to go fetch him.

“Tell him about the wager,” he adds. “Oh, and make sure you present Laertes as a formidable enemy. I’m sure that won’t be too hard for you to do.”

He smirks. I don’t like it, but I go up to Hamlet’s room and knock on the door.

Hamlet is sitting on the floor, talking with his friend Horatio. I don’t know Horatio very well. He seems pretty nice. He also seems to like Hamlet a lot. Breathlessly, I explain how it’s time for the duel. Hamlet looks bored. He tells me a couple times to put on my hat. This sort of banter goes on for a while.

Eventually I get the point across that Laertes is ready for the duel, that he’s an amazing person (which I have no trouble describing in detail), and that Claudius has a wager. Hamlet looks thoroughly amused throughout the entire exchange. After I’ve delivered all the necessary information, I leave quickly.

*

Soon enough, Hamlet comes out, and it’s time for the duel. My hands are sweaty as I take the foils. It’s easy to see which is the sharpened one. I barely listen as Hamlet apologizes for his behavior at Ophelia’s funeral.

Then Hamlet calls for me to give them the foils, and my heart beats even faster. I thrust a foil into the hands of Hamlet, and one for Laertes. A split second later, I realize that I’ve given him a blunted one by accident.

Laertes inspects the foil. His eyebrows go up, and he turns to me. “This is too heavy; let me see another.”

I give him the sharpened foil. For a second, he stares straight into my eyes, and I freeze. Then he’s turning away, getting into position. I set the rest of the foils aside, and train my eyes on the match.

They fight. Both of them are incredible to watch. For a second, I almost forget I’m supposed to be the judge. Then Hamlet scores a touch, and it brings me back to reality.

The match goes on. Laertes is losing. I watch their foils spin and turn and dance as if my life depends on it.

Then suddenly Laertes lunges towards Hamlet, slashing at his arm. The sharpened point tears through his uniform, and I see blood welling in the gash. Laertes looks horrified.

Hamlet’s eyes narrow. He strikes at Laertes’s forearm, knocking the foil out of his hand. It skids across the floor, coming to a rest at my feet.

Slowly, hesitantly, I pick it up.

Both men are advancing on me. Hamlet’s expression is of anger; Laertes’ is of fear. Laertes makes eye contact with me. He gives a slight nod in Hamlet’s direction, almost as if to say, Give him the foil.

I don’t know why, but Laertes looks intent on the order. I can’t bring myself to disobey. I give Hamlet the foil.

Then Hamlet jumps towards Laertes, slashing the blade across his cheek. I immediately regret my decision. Laertes recoils, blood dripping from the cut.

I don’t think, just act. I rush towards Laertes, abandoning my position as judge. People are yelling. Horatio is standing with Hamlet, concern apparent in his face.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gertrude collapse. No one else seems to have noticed. I turn away from Laertes for a second, yelling, “Look to the queen!” The cry sounds above everyone else, and the attention of the room turns to Gertrude, splayed on the floor.

I focus my attention back on Laertes. His expression has softened; he’s looking straight at me.

“How is it, Laertes?” I whisper, not wanting to hear the answer.

He raises his arms, gently cupping my face in his hands. For a moment, it’s just me and him. He smiles, but it’s a deeply sad smile.

“Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric,” he breathes. “I am justly killed with my own treachery.”

Killed. The word sends a shiver through me. Claudius lied. The poison is fatal after all.

Tears are running down my face. Laertes wipes them away. It looks like he’s about to kiss me, and there is nothing I want more in the world. But then Laertes’ eyes dart to the people in the corner of the room, and I remember we’re not alone. Sooner or later, the peoples’ attention is going to focus back on Laertes. So I just smile at him, and I see his eyes sparkle with tears as well.

I have so many emotions going through my head right now. I don’t know what to do.

Then he’s falling, the poison taking its toll on him at last. I catch him, hold him close as the eyes of the room turn back to us. Laertes calls out to Hamlet, but I can’t hear what he says. My thoughts are loud enough to drown out a room full of people.

And then Laertes is looking back at me, and I want it to stay like this forever.

I vaguely begin to realize that both Gertrude and Claudius are dead. The fact isn’t registering in my mind. I’m trapped in a state of disbelief.

Then Laertes looks back at Hamlet. Laertes is crying too now, but manages to keep the weak smile on his face.

“Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet… my and my father’s deaths come not upon you… nor yours on me.”

Hamlet’s anger is gone. He just looks heartbroken now.

Laertes interchanges a final glance with Hamlet, then looks back at me. I want to say something, but I have no words.

I hold him until his heartbeat stops and his breathing becomes still.

*

The rest passes before my eyes as if I’m watching it on a screen. Hamlet is dead. Horatio is shattered. There are a couple bangs and clatters, and various people run in. Horatio speaks to them. I realize vaguely that it must be Fortinbras and his soldiers.

“Take up the bodies,” I hear Fortinbras say.

And then someone is standing over me, pulling Laertes away. I want to resist, but I have no strength. I sit on the cold, hard floor until Fortinbras and his soldiers and the bodies are gone and the only one left is Horatio.

Horatio walks over to me. His eyes are red, and there are tear tracks on his cheeks. Wordlessly, he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“They’re dead,” I breathe. My voice cracks. “I c-can’t believe they’re all dead.”

Horatio’s tears cascade silently down his face. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

We stand like that for a while, hugging and crying until we have no tears left.


End file.
